The Daughter Read Free Page A

down the length of my gullet.
    Two-­fifteen. Fifteen minutes to go before we would ring Shan.
    I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to leave the house, I would go down the road to the school theater, wrench open the doors, and shout her name into the dusty air. If she wasn’t there, then I would run down the main street, past the university, storm into all the clubs, pushing past the bouncers, and yell into the crowds of dancers . . .
    â€œIs there any food?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œJenny, I’ve been operating all night. I missed supper in the canteen. Is there any food?”
    I opened the fridge and looked in. I couldn’t recognize anything. Squares and oblongs. My hands found cheese and butter. The cold lumps of butter tore the bread. Ted silently took it from me. He made a perfect sandwich and cut off the crusts.
    While he was eating, I found Nikita’s number on a pink Post-­it note stuck to the corkboard on the cabinet. She didn’t pick up either. The phone was in her bag. She had pushed it under the table so she could dance in the club they’d managed to get into. Everyone else wanted to go home, her friends were leaning against the wall, yawning, but Naomi and Nikita were dancing together, having fun. No one would be able to hear Nikita’s phone ringing in the bag under the table. Shan must be awake too, waiting. It was only a year since her divorce from Neil; this would feel worse on her own.
    Half past two.
    I phoned Shan and, as I waited, I remembered her telling me a week ago how Nikita still shared everything with her and the stabbing moment of jealousy that I’d felt. Naomi didn’t do that anymore. Now I was glad Nikita still confided in her mother. Shan would know exactly where we could pick them up.
    A sleepy voice mumbled an answer. She had fallen asleep, like me.
    â€œHello, Shan.” I tried to make my voice sound normal. “I’m so sorry to wake you. Do you have any idea where they are? We’ll pick them up, but the trouble is . . .” I paused, and attempted to laugh. “Naomi forgot to tell me where they would be.”
    â€œWait a moment.” I could see her sitting up, running her hand through her hair, blinking at the alarm clock on her bedside table. “Say all that again?”
    I took a breath and tried to speak slowly.
    â€œNaomi’s not back yet. They must have gone on somewhere after the meal. Did Nikita say where?”
    â€œThe meal’s tomorrow, Jen.”
    â€œNo, that’s the party.”
    â€œBoth tomorrow. Nikita’s here. She’s exhausted; she’s been asleep since I picked her up hours ago.”
    I repeated stupidly: “Hours ago?”
    â€œI collected her straight after the play.” There was a little pause and then she said quietly, “There was no meal.”
    â€œBut Naomi said.” My mouth was dry. “She took her new shoes. She said . . .”
    I sounded like children do when they want something they can’t have. She had taken the shoes and the bag of clothes. How could there not have been a meal? Shan must be mistaken; perhaps Nikita hadn’t been invited. There was a longer pause.
    â€œI’ll check with Nikita,” she said. “Phone you back in a moment.”
    I was outside a gate, which had just shut with a little click. Behind it was a place where children slept safely, their limbs trustingly spread across the sheets; a place where you didn’t phone a friend at two-­thirty in the morning.
    The kitchen chairs were cold and hard. Ted’s face was white. He kept bending his knuckles till they cracked. I wanted to stop him but I couldn’t open my mouth in case I started screaming. I picked the phone up quickly when it rang and at first I didn’t say anything.
    â€œThere was no meal, Jenny.” Shan’s voice was slightly breathless. “Everyone went home. I’m sorry.”
    A faint